Peace
by ByThePrickingOfMyThumbs
Summary: A Sasha/Erin fic based on the aftermath of Series 10. Rated for language and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Spooks is owned by Kudos and the BBC. **

**Sasha and Erin are a fairly odd pairing, I know, and they might not be to everyone's taste. However, the plot bunnies have taken hold and won't let go. This is my first Spooks fic, so feel free to offer advice and criticism. Hope you enjoy!**

Pain. And shouting. That was all Sasha was aware of. He vaguely recalled the events of the past few hours, but the pain was drowning out his grief, making it less difficult to focus on.

He blinked. The sky was bright – too bright. Closing his eyes, he tried to listen. Who was shouting...was it Harry?

Now it was a woman talking. Perhaps it was the woman with ridiculous hair. He couldn't remember her name. She was standing close to him, but he didn't open his eyes. It was peaceful like this.

He could feel the blood. It felt hot against his skin – or were his legs just getting colder? It must be the shock. He knew he was going into shock; he had felt it before. The talking was getting quieter, fading. His eyelids felt suddenly heavy. Maybe he should try to open them, one last time?

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'We should leave them be,' Calum said, leading Erin away from Harry. Dimitri had already gone back inside to find Ilya Gavrik.

Erin could hear choked sobs behind her, and moved further away without turning back. She knew that Harry had always loved Ruth – everyone had known that, it was the worst kept secret in the whole of MI5.

Calum's phone beeped. He seemed dazed as he answered it, then relayed the news to Erin.

'It's the helicopter. They'll be here in 3 minutes.'

Erin sniffed and tried to hold back her tears. Considering Harry's current situation, she decided that it was up to her to take charge. 'Tell them we have 3 casualties. Then help Dee get Ilya and Elena out.'

He nodded and jogged back to the bunker, still looking like he was in a dream. He stumbled slightly. She glanced up into the sky. A black shape seemed to be approaching, but it was too far away to be sure. Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, she crouched next to Sasha.

He looked so pale. His dark hair had fallen across his eyes, making the skin beneath seem so white in comparison. The anger and confusion had left his expression – he looked peaceful, almost beautiful.

She tried to shake those thoughts from her head. He was a murderer. His country had always been at odds with hers. It was wrong of her to think like this.

She grabbed his shoulders and roughly pulled him up into a half-sitting position. His eyes flickered slightly but didn't open, and he slumped backwards against her. As if to prove she felt nothing for him, she didn't bother being gentle as she yanked the side-arm holster off his shoulders. She didn't want the paramedic team to find him wearing it and start asking awkward questions.

She realised the futility of this action almost as soon as she'd done it. 8 people were in the middle of nowhere, outside a disused military bunker. 3 of them were Russian. All the men were wearing suits. 1 had a gunshot wound. 2 women were dead. How on earth would she explain this?

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It was surprisingly difficult to open his eyes. His leg hurt. He felt dizzy. It was much easier just to relax, to sleep.

Suddenly his body jerked. Someone was lifting his torso off the ground. The arms felt warm and safe. Maybe it was his mother. Maybe he had died and they were together again now. It seemed like quite an appealing prospect.

But, no. The arms were too rough. It was definitely a woman though; he could smell her perfume. Her small hands were pulling on his shoulders – what for?

His brain felt fuzzy, like a badly tuned radio. It hurt. His whole body hurt. He was cold, so cold. Those arms were still around him though. It gave him a small amount of comfort. A strand of her hair had fallen against his face, tickling his cheek. It was the last thing he remembered before drifting into unconsciousness.

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The holster lay abandoned beside her. She knew she should let go of him. She should throw him to ground and leave him there, as punishment for killing Ruth. But she didn't. His breathing was light but steady. Focusing on it helped to calm her. He had slumped back against her chest; she rested her chin on the top of his head.

Dimitri was walking towards them, carrying Elena's body in his arms. Calum followed, leading an exhausted-looking Ilya, whose hands were bound together with a tie-wrap. Erin mentally chastised herself. That was the correct way to treat a Russian spy - with hand cuffs and suspicion. Not sympathy and comfort.

Despite this, she couldn't bring herself to let go of Sasha until the helicopter had landed. Two paramedics bustled past her and tended to him, fitting an oxygen mask to his face and easing him onto a stretcher. The helicopter was bigger than she expected. The three stretchers easily fitted in. Harry climbed in after Ruth without question. One of the paramedics turned to Erin, gesturing that she could accompany them as well if she wanted to. Erin blushed slightly as she realised that they had assumed she and Sasha were a couple.

'Go with them,' Calum's voice was soft, 'Look after Harry. We'll sort everything out here.'

Erin nodded and climbed into the helicopter. As they lifted off, she could see Calum and Dimitri leading Ilya back to the cars. The bunker got smaller and smaller, until it was just a dot on the horizon.

**Please leave a review if you have time - it would really make my day :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Spooks is owned by Kudos and the BBC.**

**I think I made Sasha a bit OOC in this chapter. I always thought there were similarities between his personality and Zaf's - both could be quite silly and carefree (I loved the 'Dead. Poison umbrella' scene), but they could both also be ruthless and a bit impulsive when the people they cared about were in danger. Anyway, that's just my opinion. I apologize if you think otherwise, because in that case this chapter might be a little OOC.**

**Also, I have no knowledge whatsoever about medical procedures, so this hospital scene is probably quite inaccurate. Feel free to review and leave a message if you see something wrong with the operation/recovery time, and I'll try to correct it.**

Erin had been pacing for the past 20 minutes. The problem with Sasha's hospital room was that it was just too small to pace properly. She turned sharply on her heel when she got to the opposite wall and started walking back.

'You'll wear out the carpet if you keep doing that.'

She jumped at the voice. A nurse was standing in the doorway.

'Sorry if I startled you,' the nurse apologised, approaching Sasha's bed. She studied his charts for a few moments, then turned and smiled at Erin. 'He's doing fine. We'll be doing surgery on his knee in a few minutes so it'd be best to keep him unconscious until then. That's his only injury, apart from 2 fractured knuckles.' She frowned. 'How did this happen anyway?'

Erin was ready with a story. 'We were walking by the river. It was a farmer who shot him, I think. An accident. Apparently people don't walk down that way very often. We didn't realise we were on his land. He was hunting for rats and things like that, and one of the bullets hit Alek in the leg. The farmer was so shocked; I thought he was going to faint or something. I don't know about his knuckles, though. Maybe he hit his hand as he fell?'

It was the worst story she had ever invented, but she was just too tired to think of something better. Her brain felt distant and disconnected. Nevertheless, the dumb girlfriend act seemed to satisfy the nurse, who nodded and left the room. Erin sighed. It was going to be a long night.

**2 hours later...2 hours later... 2 hours later... 2 hours later...2 hours later**

Sasha could feel a vague throbbing in his left knee. It didn't exactly hurt, but it definitely didn't feel right either. He recognised the feeling. Anaesthetic. Pain relief. He was in a hospital.

Very slowly, he opened one eye. That woman was stood at the foot of his bed, facing away from him. His memories came flooding back to him. His mother. His father – well, both his fathers. Ruth – was that her name? He had killed Ruth. Then the tall man had shot him. The woman in front of him, she had been there as well. She must have been the one who had held him as they waited for the helicopter. He searched back through his memories until he remembered her name. Erin, that was what she was called.

He tried to sit up and groaned. His head felt like it was split in half. She heard and turned round, walking over to the side of his bed. He was surprised to see the tear tracks on her cheeks.

'Don't sit up. It'll just make your head feel worse.'

'Why are you here?' His voice sounded hoarse.

She sighed. 'I came with you in the helicopter. Harry was saying goodbye to Ruth, but he's gone home now. Dimitri and Calum are back at Thames House – they've handed your father over to the FSB. He's probably been sent back to Russia by now.'

Sasha swallowed and looked away. 'That's good. I don't ever want to see my father again.'

Erin sat on the edge of his bed and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. He blinked, trying to hold back the tears that pooled in his eyes. He tried to concentrate on his current situation instead. There was no point dwelling on the past.

'Who...what did you tell them my name was?'

'You're called Alek, and I'm called Sophie. You're my boyfriend.' She blushed slightly and quickly told the rest of the story, trying to ignore the way his lips had quirked for a second.

'What are you laughing at?' she said defensively, when she finished, 'I doubt you could have come up with a better story, considering the circumstances.'

'My name. Alek.' He said.

She shrugged. 'What of it? It was the first Russian name I could think of.'

'It's a terrible way to disguise my real name. Sasha is a shortened form of Aleksandr.'

Erin was just about to retort when the nurse returned. They were both immediately on their guard, careful. The nurse didn't seem to notice. She smiled at the couple, glanced at the various machines and monitors surrounding Sasha, then left the room. His gaze followed her, his eyes narrowed, waiting until she was well out of earshot.

'Can you get me some coffee?'

Erin frowned. 'You shouldn't drink coffee. The caffeine might mess with your medication.'

'I don't care. I need to look better or they'll keep me here for ages.'

'Sasha, a couple of hours ago you had a hole in your leg. You've only just got out of surgery. They'll be keeping you here for ages whatever you do.'

He looked surprised. 'I had to have surgery? Is my leg broken?'

'No, the bullet went through just below your kneecap. It tore through a bit of muscle though. They had to stitch it up properly. You'll be on crutches for a few weeks, and it'll be a couple of months before you can walk without a limp.'

Sasha pulled back the sheets to look at his leg, poking the bandages and wriggling his toes. The hospital gown he was wearing ended mid way down his thighs, but he didn't seem particularly bothered. Erin deliberately averted her eyes; he noticed and smirked.

'You're not playing the part of the girlfriend very well. People might get suspicious.'

'Oh, piss off,' she muttered, 'I liked you better when you were unconscious.'

He smiled slightly. Erin smiled as well. It was the first time she'd smiled all day, the first time she'd felt even remotely happy. It was strange, that Sasha Gavrik of all people was having that effect on her.

**I feel like I've made them too happy too quickly, but if we let them recover in their own time I fear they would be moping around looking depressed for quite a while, considering everything they've both gone through...and that wouldn't make a very good story...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Spooks is owned by Kudos and the BBC.**

**Bit of a filler chapter, I'm afraid. I promise the next chapter will be more interesting :)**

**To _zxemilxz_ : The name Sasha originally came from the name Aleksandr, but it can also be used as a name by itself. I think it's a bit like some English names, for example Ellie could be a nickname for someone whose full name is Eleanor, but it could also just be their full name. I'm not sure if that explanation makes sense, but oh well.**

Erin was surprised at how easily she adapted to life back at the Grid. Ruth was gone, but everyone just had to learn to continue. Colleagues had died before and Section D had survived. Everyone would recover eventually. Apart from Harry, of course.

To someone who didn't know him, he looked perfectly fine, if a little tired. But Erin could tell just how much Ruth's death had affected her boss. Almost every night he would sit in his office, looking out over London and drinking an alarming amount. She wasn't sure he even went home some nights. He dedicated himself to each new terrorist threat as if his life personally depended on it. Perhaps it did. It was as if his work had _become_ his life.

Erin always felt guilty when she saw Harry in this state. It was Sasha's fault that Ruth had died, and she still didn't know why she had been so kind to him. She tried to convince herself that she had only stayed with him so she could tell him his false name and story when he woke, but she knew that wasn't the real reason. It had been 3 weeks since that day, and she hadn't been back to the hospital since. Several times she'd considered going back to check up on him, but she knew she had no excuse to. She didn't want to give Harry any more reminders about the Gavrik family. Idly, she wondered how he had explained her disappearance to the nurses. A breakup, probably. She sighed, pretending she didn't care.

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Sasha was monumentally bored. It had taken 20 days for his leg to recover enough to just about walk without crutches. He had an infuriatingly slow limp though, and preferred to use the crutches just to save time. This annoyed the nurses considerably, and they spent most of their time trying to take the crutches away from him so his injured muscle would get stronger.

But they didn't understand. The hospital was so vulnerable. Anyone could get to him. It was in the nature of his FSB training to always have an escape route. For this reason, it made him feel very uncomfortable that he couldn't run. At least with the crutches nearby he had some chance of getting out of an attack alive.

And the threat of attack was very real. Not many people knew the full story of what happened the day his mother and Ruth Evershed had died. But lots had guessed. He had killed a British intelligence officer. There were many people who he imagined would be very happy to see him dead.

Harry was the first name he thought of. And for good reason. The man had put a gun to his head even before he'd killed Ruth. Who knew what he'd do now...

Erin's colleagues - they were probably fairly angry too. The taller one had already shot him once before.

And then there were people like the Americans. Since it had been explained to them that Elena Gavrik, rather than Harry, had been the enemy, the anger they felt about Coaver's death had been directed at anyone they thought might have been on her side. And that definitely included her son.

Sasha sighed. For some reason, the only person he had felt safe around ever since this whole thing had started was Erin.

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The deal with the Russians had been significantly hindered by the loss of the Gavrik family. However, Ilya's replacement – a young politician called Artur Filipov who was far too naive and enthusiastic for Harry's liking – seemed to have got the deal back on track for success. Section D had spent much of the past couple of weeks keeping the politicians from both sides safe as the talks progressed once more.

'Ah. We may have a problem...' Calum sounded worried as he turned his screen for the others to see. It was filled with reports from news stations around the world. Reports about the British deal with the Russians. 'I thought these were supposed to be _secret_ talks...'

Harry glanced across the screen and swore. 'It's the Americans. They've been following these talks right from the beginning. They've realised we're close to a deal so they've panicked and gone public with the story.'

'Will this affect the talks?' Dimitri asked, 'Could we get the deal signed before anybody can do anything about it?'

Harry nodded. 'We're close. I think we could get it all signed by about midday tomorrow. Until then, we need to be on the highest alert. Any Russian fanatic in the country, any American who might present a threat – I want them all under surveillance. ' He sighed, his head in his hands. 'And that includes Sasha Gavrik. He's due to be discharged from hospital this afternoon. I need one of you to keep an eye on him, just for 24 hours.' He disappeared back into his office, looking like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Knowing Harry, it probably was...

'I'll do it.' Erin didn't realise she'd spoken until after the words had left her mouth.

Dimitri frowned. 'Are you sure?'

She nodded. 'My Mum can take Rosie to her Dad's house for the night. She'd like that. I have a spare room. Sasha will be fine.'

'It's not him we're worried about' Calum muttered darkly. Erin heard him and sighed, exasperated.

'You're being ridiculous. He can barely even walk. He'll probably just sleep for most of the day.'

The men were clearly about to protest again, but thankfully her phone rang, allowing her to leave the conversation.

'Hi, Mum. Is everything alright?'

'Everything is fine, love. But I just saw the news. Negotiations with the Russians. Are you involved? Are you going to be late home from work again tonight?'

Erin sighed. She always felt guilty when her work life disrupted her home life. 'Listen, Mum. I need you to take Rosie to Jack's house – just for tonight, I promise. He has several spare rooms; you can stay there as well.'

'Why? What's happening at our house? Why are you staying there on your own?'

'Don't worry, Mum, I won't be on my own.'

Her mother's voice took on a stern tone, 'Are you bringing a man home? Is that why you want us out of the way?'

'No! Well, yes, but it's to do with work. He needs somewhere to stay for the night.'

'What's wrong with a hotel?'

'No, we need to keep an eye on him.'

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then her mother's voice returned, sounding strained. 'I decided a long time ago that I shouldn't interfere with your work. But I just need to know one thing -will you be safe?'

'Yes, Mum. I promise I'll be safe.'

A sigh. 'I'll tell Rosie to pack a bag.'

'Thanks, Mum. I'll be back later to say goodbye to her.'

**I'd love some reviews, if you have time... if it helps, today is my birthday :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Spooks is owned by Kudos and the BBC.**

Sasha didn't speak much on the journey back to Erin's house. He had been surprised to see her waiting for him outside the hospital, but glad he didn't have to get a taxi to a hotel, which had been his previous plan. Staying with another spy made him feel safer and more secure than he had felt in nearly 3 weeks.

Especially seeing as this spy was so pretty...

He looked away from her, out of the window, trying to dispel such thoughts from his head. There was no point.

'We're here.'

Sasha blinked and looked up at the house in front of them. It wasn't what he expected. He had imagined that she would live in an expensive flat in the middle of the city; this looked like the sort of house a teacher or accountant would live in.

He opened the door of the car and climbed out awkwardly, holding onto the roof to ease the pressure on his bad leg. He followed Erin to the house, his crutches making a crunching sound on the gravel. The door was unlocked, he noted. Was there someone else in the house? Erin didn't seem surprised, so he relaxed slightly.

Inside it looked warm and comforting, more like a family home than the house of a spy. Erin led him into the kitchen.

'Could you wait here for a minute?' she said apologetically. Sasha sat at the table and looked round the room as she disappeared upstairs.

He noticed several drawings that were stuck to the fridge with magnets. Did Erin have children? The thought hadn't even occurred to him until that moment. He glanced around the room. There was a colourful bowl by the sink and a sticker chart on the back of the door. It reminded him of his own house, when he was a child.

He suddenly noticed the sound of voices from above. Someone was coming down the stairs. He gripped one of the crutches and stood up, putting the table between himself and whoever was coming. He noted the position of the chairs, the distance to the window – anything that could help him in a fight. Not for the first time, he wished he had his side-arm.

He immediately relaxed when he saw the woman. Erin's mother, he guessed. He sank back into his chair and rested the crutch against the table. Her reaction was the complete opposite. As soon as she noticed him she squealed and jumped back towards the door. Clearly Erin hadn't warned her that he was in the kitchen. However, when he didn't move for a few seconds, she relaxed.

'Erm... hi,' she said, sounding embarrassed, 'You must be Erin's colleague.'

'Hello,' he replied uncertainly, 'Yes, I'm her colleague.' He didn't elaborate, unsure of how much she knew. Was she aware that her daughter was a spy?

She noticed his confusion and explained, 'Don't worry; I know what her job involves.' She paused nervously, then walked further into the room and held out her hand, 'Laura Watts.'

Sasha shook her hand, 'Ivan Petrov.' The lie came easily, as always.

She smiled sadly. 'I know that's not your real name. But it doesn't matter. I just want you to promise me something. That you'll keep Erin safe tonight. She's never done this before – never let her work life interfere with her home life.' She sighed. 'This must be important to her. _You_ must be important. So keep her safe.'

Sasha nodded, feeling strangely humbled. Erin's mother truly cared for her. It occurred to him that his mother had never felt like that towards him, despite her best efforts. She had been prepared to watch her former lover shoot her own son in the head. It made him feel empty inside.

A small girl ran into the room. She looked curiously at Sasha.

'Who are you?'

'Now, Rosie, don't be rude,' Laura admonished, 'This is Ivan, and he works with your Mummy.'

'What happened to your leg?'

Sasha didn't quite know how to answer. 'Er...I hurt it.'

The girl rolled her eyes as if that was obvious. 'But how did you hurt it? I hurt _my_ leg last week – I fell over when I was playing and grazed my knee on the gravel. Is that what happened to you?'

'Yeah, something like that.'

She frowned, clearly finding him boring, and turned back to her grandmother. 'Are we going to Daddy's house now? When we rang him earlier he said we can go to the park. I like the swings in that park! Can we go on the swings?'

She carried on chattering all the way to the front door. Sasha watched Erin say goodbye to them, heard the door shut behind them. She seemed subdued as she returned to the kitchen. He was sure he could see tears clinging to her lashes.

'Sorry about all that,' she said, turning away from him and rearranging the dishes by the sink. They were already stacked neatly, so she stopped after a few seconds. Sasha could see her shoulders shaking slightly. He stood up slowly and approached her. Uncertainly, he put a hand on her shoulder. He half expected her to pull away, but instead she turned towards him, tears pooling in her eyes. Somehow he found his arms around her, felt hers wrap around him as well.

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She felt so guilty to be crying in front of Sasha. He had lost his whole family, and she was crying because she wasn't going to see hers for a day. He must think she was taking the piss or something.

But he didn't seem angry. He didn't even seem annoyed. His expression was unreadable as he held her. He felt warm and comforting. She wrapped her arms tighter round him, resting her head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, but quicker than she expected. She looked up at his face. His expression didn't change as he looked down at her.

She was suddenly very aware of their close proximity. His arms had moved from her shoulders to her back, pulling her even closer. Their bodies were touching. She knew what was coming next but made no effort to stop it. His face was so close to hers. His eyes were such a deep blue.

She didn't move as his lips touched hers, frozen as if she was in a dream. His eyelids fluttered shut and his arms tightened around her. She let herself sink into his embrace, closing her eyes and returning the kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Spooks is owned by Kudos and the BBC. **

**A little warning: this chappie contains naughty stuff. That's right, sex. So if you're not into that sort of thing, consider yourself warned.**

Erin had always been a determined, single-minded woman. Over her life, this trait had impressed many men, but it had always seemed to leave her in charge of the direction of relationships. At first she had liked the feeling of power and control, but she resented the fact that her boyfriends had always let her take the lead in the bedroom. She wanted to feel more feminine, more vulnerable. It was the one aspect of her life that she didn't want to be in control of.

Perhaps this was why she had allowed herself to go this far. Because it was definitely Sasha who was in control of _this_ situation. His lips were hard and almost bruising against hers. Somehow, they had managed to get upstairs. His body was pressing hers against the wall. She could his feel his heart thudding against her own. Breathlessly, she guided him to the door to her bedroom. As soon as they got to the bed he pushed her onto the mattress. She ran her fingers through his hair, then down across his chest. He groaned, his lips against her neck. Their bodies were pressed against each other, their legs tangled together.

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He could barely feel the pain in his leg. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. It was as if he had lived in a bubble for 3 weeks, and now he was free. Free of the memory of his mother. Free of the weight of responsibility. Free of the fear of attack. He knew he was breaking every FSB protocol by sleeping with a British spy, but he didn't feel guilty. He was sick of feeling guilty on behalf of other people.

His hands found the back of her dress and pulled on the zip. Her fingers were already within his shirt. They broke their kiss just long enough to pull them off. Both garments soon lay discarded by the bed, closely follow by the rest of their clothes. Her skin was flawless and perfect, but he didn't stop to admire her body. Her soft hands traced patterns across his back as their kisses became fiercer, more insistent.

Their bodies fitted together perfectly; their hearts seemed to beat as one. He didn't care that she was a British spy. He didn't care that she worked for Harry Pearce. He didn't even care that he had so recently promised her mother he'd keep her safe. Nothing mattered now, nothing except the two of them.

He knew their relationship would go no further than this night, and that in the morning – when the uncertainty of the peace talks had been resolved - he would be allowed to rejoin his FSB colleagues, and Erin would return to Thames House and pretend nothing had happened between them. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he was being a bastard for using her in this way. If he had been in a less volatile mood, he may have taken that into consideration. In his present situation, however, he couldn't care less about morals and decency. For the first time in many weeks, he truly felt alive.

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He was rough with her, but she expected that. She knew she'd be bruised in the morning, but it felt too good to stop. After all the responsibility that had been forced on her in recent weeks, she just needed to relinquish control. Let someone else take charge, and damn the consequences.

It was nothing like she had ever experienced before. Jack had always been loving and gentle, slowing whenever she looked to be in discomfort. Sasha, on the other hand, seemed almost intent on causing her pain. His actions were furied but passionate, his breathing shallow and quick. Between their gasps and groans she could hear him whisper something in Russian. The language sounded both beautiful and harsh in equal measure. It suited him perfectly.

Afterwards they lay breathless, not speaking to each other. There was nothing they needed to say. In that moment they had both understood each other perfectly – words couldn't match that level of comprehension. Her head rested against his chest; she felt comforted by its steady rising and falling beneath her. He had an arm around her shoulders, letting his hand rest against her stomach.

Despite everything, they both slept peacefully that night...

**This seems like a good place to end. I have a few extra ideas floating around my head, but I'm finding it difficult to form them into any sort of comprehensible storyline, so I think I should leave it here.**


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